


Codename: Charmer

by TalanKrah



Series: Codename: Charmer [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Backstory, Bisexual Male Character, Explicit Language, I'm Bad At Tagging, Multi, Original Character Backstory, POV First Person, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Reminiscing, Silas Orion, Smoking, The Railroad (Fallout), charmer - Freeform, mention of hancock/oc, mentions of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-13
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-17 12:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20621123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TalanKrah/pseuds/TalanKrah
Summary: Soft clicking of a rickety fan, the faint melody playing over the old radio, a light buzzing just outside, nearly dead now. It was a typical morning to wake up in the wasteland, provided nothing tripped the shack defenses in the middle of the night, and just like every other morning for the last few years it was preluded by another nightmare. My name is Silas Orion, but most people know me as Charmer.





	1. Silas

**Author's Note:**

> This is the backstory for an original character I made for a Fallout tag on tiktok. The chapters aren't long, so forgive me. Hope you enjoy!!

Soft clicking of a rickety fan, the faint melody playing over the old radio, a light buzzing just outside, nearly dead now. It was a typical morning to wake up in the wasteland, provided nothing tripped the shack defenses in the middle of the night, and just like every other morning for the last few years it was preluded by another nightmare. Always on a roulette, it seemed, and almost always filled with the screams and sobs of innocent people. Because, you see, the world was fucked. All of it! People had lost the ability, or will, to be decent, nice, or trustworthy. Not that I’m any different really, oh no, I’ve definitely caused my fair share of strife or heartbreak. I’ve killed, lied, cheated—hell worse—sat and watched other people suffer and did next to nothing to help. No one did but, I’m getting ahead of myself. We haven’t even been properly introduced, have we? My name is Silas Orion, but most people know me as Charmer.

I sat up, sunken mattress leaving my back more painful by morning than it was when I lied on it the night before, and as always, I grumbled and complained under my breath while scratching my beard. How did I end up here, in this shack, in the wilderness, night after restless night listening for sounds of danger, or a turret firing? I already knew the answer, because I put myself here. But to get to this point, we need to remember what happened, the event that started my life on this path. The path of drugs, sex, and alcohol with chain smoking sprinkles on top. Sounds fun, huh? Well, it is when you’re in the haze of it all but, we all must come down sometime, and when we do, reality is even more bitter than we left it.

It started in Diamond City, the “Great Green Jewel” of the Commonwealth, as it’s called. Propaganda, that. It may have been a jewel once, years ago, when anyone and everyone was welcomed through that obnoxious gate, to live in safety behind the oh so great “Wall.” I was of the lucky few actually born there, raised in a world where I didn’t have to fear for my life every god damned day. We had food, water, a doctor, and a little schoolhouse that I hated once. Yeah, it was the life, not that I appreciated it much at all, being a kid, but what I did appreciate were the friends I had there. As the runt of any group, I was knocked around my fair share, but there were always those friends who would stick up for me when other kids got too rough. The younger of the McDonough boys and I were as tight knit as you got back then, hell, he was the one who taught me how to fight. Ain’t no one in the Commonwealth who could wield a combat knife like John could in a tight spot, at least not until me. Yeah, I said it. He may have been great once, but when it comes to getting up close and personal, not even he could beat me anymore. Well, there was that one incident with Pickman, but that’s a story for later. Back on topic now.

John and his brother were older than me by a few years, old enough that they still called me kid even after my sixteenth birthday. How long ago was that now? I stopped counting after a while. Despite that though, I still noticed when John’s brother changed. He wanted to be mayor of Diamond City, wanted to own it, so he started running a campaign against the ghoul citizens. I still remember the feeling of my stomach dropping when he announced that he’d rid the city of ghouls forever. I remember how sick I felt when every other smooth skin began to cheer while their rough-skinned friends’ and neighbors’ eyes were filled with fear and confusion. I remember the anger that etched itself across John’s face. That was it. That’s what started the shitty domino effect that landed me here in the wasteland.

I left Diamond City with the ghouls, my friends, the sound of my mom sobbing and my dad screaming at me to never come back if I stepped foot outside with those “freaks.” So I did, with a combat knife on my hip, a sniper rifle on my back, and no idea what the real world was like, and didn’t look back. Oh, and trust me, I had no business being out there with any kind of confidence. What could a spoiled city kid possibly know about survival? Nothing, not a god damn thing. Scariest shit I’ve ever been through, too damn many close calls, too many mistakes, too many dead friends, and countless sleepless nights. The first time I killed I cried, like a damn baby, as I looked down at the wild mongrel that had charged me. I sobbed while it whined and bled out in front of me, before I vomited right there in the middle of the street. It really was pathetic, looking back, but I survived. When I finally stumbled, half dead into Goodneighbor it seemed like a haven at first. Walls, food, water. I realized a little too late, that the gang running the town was just a group of thugs led by some asshole with no regard for the lives of us drifters.

Don’t get me wrong now, Goodneighbor wasn’t all bad. I met John again, we were both a bit older, a bit rougher, and I wasn’t the doe eyed little shit that followed in his shadow anymore. We drank, got high, one thing led to another, then morning would come, and we’d go our separate ways again. Lather, rinse and repeat. We’d get drunk, high, we’d fuck, then one of us would just leave. Eventually, it was just me leaving, packing up and hitting the pavement first thing, still very hungover and very high, but still I’d light up a cig and walk out of town before anyone could even think to stop me. One day though, I didn’t know it then, but it was the last time I’d see Goodneighbor for a few years. I had taken to traveling more frequently, to more places, meeting more people and eventually, started working as a gun—or knife in my case—for hire. Unless, of course, sniping was an option.

There were always those few odd jobs that just didn’t feel right, not that it mattered when they still made me caps to fuel my addictions, but then it did start to matter. I’d met a group of people, just a small group of maybe three that were traveling together, that had managed to help me kick a few of my bad habits. It made thinking easier, clearer, and I was grateful for it. We became friends, just four drifters backpacking it across the Commonwealth, on our way to a place called Bunker Hill. That trip was cut short for half of our group when one of them confessed that he wasn’t a human, but a synth. 


	2. Charmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It all happened faster than I could have anticipated. Suddenly, friends were enemies, and just like that the peace we had found with each other was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been so distracted the last few days but it's done!

It all happened faster than I could have anticipated, guns drawn, begging, shouting, cursing, swearing. Suddenly, friends were enemies, and just like that the peace we had found with each other was gone. The dilapidated house we’d been camping in was quiet then, a silence only broken by the panting and whimpering of a man on his knees with his hands in the air, tears staining his very human face. None of us could tell Jackson was anything but a man, he bled like us, cried like us, ate like us, for all intents and purposes he was a human. Growing up in Diamond City, I’d heard of synths before, but this cowering man looked nothing like Nick Valentine, the only synth I had ever met. For a long moment, too long, my hand hovered over my knife as I contemplated killing either Jackson as he knelt on the floor, or Vick and Beth who were currently holding him at gunpoint. With a deep breath to calm my nerves, my hand fell away from my blade, and I placed myself between my friends, sheltering a synth.

“Get the fuck out of the way, Silas!” Vick shouted, and I still remember the outrage on his face. While he wasn’t necessarily intimidating, having a gun aimed at the center of my chest was. Despite his anger and shouting I simply shook my head and held my hands up to calm him, all the while Beth watched with her own gun still aimed at Jackson’s head, and of course the shouting continued. “Get out of the way! Didn’t you hear him? He’s a fuckin’ synth, he’ll kill us all in our sleep!”

“Ah, yes, because he’s been doing that every night for the past few weeks,” I quipped, shutting up when I felt the cold metal of the pipe pistol against my forehead.

“For fuck sake, Sil, move,” his voice trembled. “I swear I’ll blow your god damn brains out, you idiot.”

My heart was pounding in my chest, blood rushed in my ears, and my body broke out in a cold sweat. That wasn’t the first time I’d looked death in the eyes, it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last though, and I wasn’t about to watch a man kill someone he’d called friend that morning, for being different. Never again. Call me an idiot if you like, but I grabbed the gun, and held it there.

“Then do it,” I said, feeling calm and more clearheaded than I had been in long time, so I continued. “If you want to kill him, then shoot me, but think about something first. If he wanted to kill any of us, he would have done so already, he’s had plenty of time.”

The gun against my forehead was shaking as he trembled and finally, after a very long minute, he pulled the weapon away and started pacing. Keeping still as he crossed back and forth in front of us was the best idea while we waited for him to decide on what he wanted to do, and finally he did.

“Go. Both of you, go, get out, leave or I swear I will shoot both of you. I don’t want to see you again.” I could hear the trembling in Vick’s voice. I didn’t want to leave them like this, why couldn’t they see how wrong this whole thing was?

“It doesn’t have to end like this—”

“Damn it, shut up! Go!” With tears and fear in his eyes he lifted his weapon to me again, stopping any chance of me stepping closer to him.

“Just leave, Sil,” Beth whispered, looking absolutely petrified. And just like that, I knew that there was no way in hell they would change their minds, but neither would I.

I remember grabbing my gear and pack and heaving Jackson up off the filthy floorboards, guiding him outside and down to the road. It was just the two of us then, heading toward Bunker Hill with only vague directions from passing strangers to go on, sneaking past ferals and raiders, ducking inside hollowed out buses when the sun got low. All the while, Jackson stayed quiet unless asked a question, confusion and sadness marring his otherwise handsome face, and it was all I could do to lift his spirits even just temporarily.

Overall, the trek into the city to find this settlement must have taken us almost a week, thanks to lousy directions, weather, ferals, and the need for sleep. But there it was, Bunker Hill, big ol’ walled in beast of a settlement. After we were allowed inside, I watched my friend go off on his own, leaving me alone with my thoughts for the first time in, what, a month? All the adrenaline, the restless nights, the shitty meals full of rads that left me feeling sick but full after, were finally taking their toll. I needed a night, just one night of uninterrupted sleep, some radaway and a fucking cigarette, because damn it all I was out. My time in Bunker Hill was what led me to a place I’d almost call home, the Railroad, and through working with Old Man Stockton, I found them, only they seemed to know I was coming.

Desdemona was a lovely woman, once you got past the defensive outer shell, also once they stopped aiming their guns at me. Thank you, Deacon. They may have noticed me coming, but they’d never heard of me before, while surprising to Des, wasn’t so surprising to me. Staying under the radar was usually my specialty, and if I was noticed, I could oftentimes work my way out of trouble. Deacon was confused himself, and though he tried his best to hide it, he was both impressed and concerned. When Des made me a tourist that day, he was less than pleased, even decided to travel with me to get to know the mysterious unknown as Desdemona put it. Then we left! I wasn’t there an hour before I was retracing my steps back out of the old church building, Deacon close behind. Not that I minded, really, the suspicious looks everyone shot me got old, fast.

Traveling with Deacon was easy, we’d chat, banter, stop when we needed to eat or rest, and we’d even stop by Goodneighbor every now and then. We’d joke and throw sarcastic remarks back and forth and it wasn’t long before I started smiling at the slightest funny comment. It was sickening, looking back at how hard I tried to get that man into bed. Nothing working. Only earning an amused chuckle and a witty comeback. So, every chance I had to flirt with anyone, I’d take it. To be honest I lost count of how many men and women I slept with or conned into giving us information. A smirk, a tilt of my head and a wink, and I had people falling left and right. But never Deacon. It was infuriating! He drove me crazy! Me! Then it happened, after a few months together as companions, while sitting around a campfire under an overpass, he laughed once and pointed an accusing finger at me while smiling triumphantly.

“Aha! I got it!”

“Got…what, exactly?” I asked, blinking dumbly at the man.

“Your codename! I got it!”

“Deac, I’m not an official agent, remember? No time for training?” I took a deep pull off my cigarette while he shook his head.

“No, no, no! Don’t you get it? We’ve been on the road, all across the Commonwealth together. I’ve seen you work!” He moved closer and spoke more animatedly, hands waving. “I can vouch for you and Des has to believe me!” His smile was so big and confident I had to laugh a little.

“Alright, I’ll bite. If—and we’re talking a big if—Des were to make me an agent, what would my codename be?” I fixed him in a skeptical stare as his grin widened.

“Charmer.” He held his hands out, as if he were presenting something amazing.

“Charmer? Seriously?”

“Yeah man! Listen, I’ve seen you wrap the meanest crazies around your finger. Men, women, ghouls…locks! No one seems to be able to resist that smile of yours. You got a way with people, Sil. It’s kind of frightening, not gonna lie.”

“Uh huh,” I laughed. “Yet, despite having this scary talent to ‘charm’ anyone into bed with me—”

“Or into giving you all the intel we could ever want.”

“Like I was saying,” I rolled my eyes. “Despite all that, I still can’t seem to get you,” I nudged him, “to crawl into bed with me.” My tone was light, but still curious.

“What can I say? I’m immune to anyone’s charms, including yours, Charmer.”

“Charmer?” I blinked, suddenly aware that my cigarette had burnt down to the filter and I’d been staring out the screen door for a while now. “Everything alright?” Two soft hands wrapped around my waist as the owner of the soft voice, a very nice young woman I saved from raiders just a few days ago, hugged me and placed soft kisses to my shoulder. I cleared my throat and discarded the useless cigarette butt.

“Yeah,” I started, turning just enough to wrap my arm around her shoulders. “Yeah, everything’s fine. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking? What about?” She smiled and her dark eyes lit up.

“Just old memories, nothing important. Now,” I ducked down to kiss her cheek, “your sister’s probably worried sick about you. I think it’s time I take you home, darlin’.”


End file.
